


The Permanent One

by jjong



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjong/pseuds/jjong
Summary: “It could still happen. Some day.” Will tries to keep his tone light and hopeful, despite his own reservations about making such a baseless claim. “Maybe you could do a vow renewal or something. Not like Kyoto’s going anywhere, right?”Paul is getting married, and Will's not entirely sure he deserves his spot on the guest list.





	The Permanent One

**Author's Note:**

> While there are central ships (Will/Sonny + Paul/OC), the story is driven more by Will and how he navigates his life. Ergo, his relationship with Paul is definitely gonna be in the forefront even though he's (happily) with Sonny.
> 
> (The rating is likely to change in later chapters.)

There is a formal wedding invite nestled amongst the bank statements when Will goes to check the mail one morning. He stands and stares at the intricate inked characters until his vision blurs.

When Paul got engaged, he’d said he would give it five years. Five years for a country built on the structure of filial piety to change its stance on gay marriage.

Five years for a miracle to happen.

Will wasn’t at all surprised when Paul announced that he was moving back to San Francisco, but the confirmation was bittersweet. Paul has been living in Kyoto for almost eight years now and Will was sure that was where he’d chosen to lay down his roots with his fiancé and their little boy.

His beautiful little family.

Still, Paul started looking into real estate when he flew over for his grandfather’s funeral and it was no coincidence that he had been finalizing his plans in the days following the lawmakers vote against same-sex marriage in Japan.

“Don’t worry if you can’t make it, I know it’s short notice—but it didn’t feel right leaving you off the guest list,” Paul explains over the phone. Will had curled up in the entryway in his dressing gown and called him as soon as he’d seen Ari off to school.

“Is he—I mean, he’s okay with it, right? I wouldn’t want to make things awkward.” Will’s being stupid. He knows he’s being stupid. He has met Paul’s fiancé, and he’s a sweetheart. He doesn’t have a mean-spirited bone in his body. 

Will has to ask though, of course he does, because he’s insecure and weird and he doesn’t know how to just be _normal_   when it comes to the people he loves.

Luckily, Paul is used to his shit and always knows what to say to get Will’s brain to quiet down.

“You’re my friend, Will. He knows that. We want you at our wedding. Both of you—and Ari, of course.”

“It’s a beautiful invitation,” Will says around the lump in his throat, tracing the shape of the characters in Paul’s surname with his fingertip.

“Touya has a friend who studied calligraphy at school.” Paul sounds light, younger than his years, the way he always does when he talks about his fiancé. “We had English ones made up, too, of course. But I figured you could use the practice.”

There’s a challenge in Paul’s voice that has Will thinking back to when they were together. Paul, with all his patient understanding, had spent hours teaching Will the basics of the Japanese grammar and writing system.

They’d worked their way up to some of the more elementary kanji compounds and it hadn’t felt much like learning, far too fun and flirty and intermingled with kisses and wandering hands.

At work, Will took to scribbling ‘ウィル ♡ ポール’ in the margin of his notebook like a teenager with a crush.

Paul would whisper to him in Japanese late at night, when they were curled up together in the afterglow. The sentiment far too complicated for Will’s shaky grasp of the language, but the words were gentle and lyrical on Paul’s tongue as he pressed them to Will’s skin.

Will smiles, happy that Paul has found someone who can understand everything he says regardless of which language it’s in.

“I recognized your name. The rest was entirely down to guesswork,” Will admits truthfully with a self-deprecating laugh, before they lapse into an amiable silence.

It’s late in Kyoto and Will had neglected to consider the fact that it’s nearly midnight over there when he called. Paul sounds relatively alert, but Will hopes he didn’t wake Touya, or God forbid their three-year-old. He wonders what Paul’s doing. Is he already in bed, or did he take the call outside? Sitting on the steps in his pyjamas like Will is.

“We’re stopping off in Salem for a bit. Give Dad a chance to see his grandson again before his head _actually_   explodes,” Paul says, abruptly breaking Will out of his wandering thoughts. “We won’t be able to move in to the new house until the start of the month, anyway.”

Will nods, concentrating hard on what he has just been told, before remembering that Paul can’t see him.

“God, I can’t believe how fast all of this is happening. Your head must be spinning,” Will says, blowing air out through his teeth. He almost feels tired _for_ Paul, knowing all too well how crazy things can be trying to plan a wedding while raising a toddler, not to mention moving clear across the globe.

“It was time, Will. I got tired of waiting for him to be my husband.” Paul sounds kind of sad, and Will’s heart thumps painfully. He knows how badly Paul wanted to get married in Touya’s hometown.  It’s the only connection to Touya’s childhood they have left, what with him being estranged from his parents.

Will’s own parents hadn’t been present when he got married for the second (and hopefully last) time, but that’s because it had been a last-minute affair, with only Ari, Gabi, and Marlena in attendance.

Sami had given him an earful. Yelling down the phone with dramatic urgency about familial obligations, and ‘how could you do this to me, Will, I’m your _mom’_. Things had only gotten worse when he heard EJ chuckling in the background over the speaker, which had made Will laugh, too.

Still, they’d made up by the end of the call, and Sami signed off by telling him how much she loved him. She may not be perfect, but at least she never disowned him for something hardwired into his DNA.

Touya doesn’t even have the _option_ of inviting his mother to his wedding. Her own ignorance taking the decision right out of his hands.

“It could still happen. Some day.” Will tries to keep his tone light and hopeful, despite his own reservations about making such a baseless claim. “Maybe you could do a vow renewal or something. Not like Kyoto’s going anywhere, right?”

“No. I guess not,” Paul hums thoughtfully. His voice is thick, the way it gets when he's tired or about to start crying. Will sincerely hopes it’s the former, even if he feels a little guilty for keeping him up.

Will wants to say he’s looking forward to seeing him, and Touya, and their little boy. Wants to say he’s sorry that they can’t truly be a family unless they leave their home.

Wants to apologize once again for hurting him, all those years ago.

His thigh is asleep from where he was sitting with his legs tucked up under himself. He shifts on the stairs to dispel some of the nervous energy that has suddenly crept up on him, the way it often does when he thinks too hard about Paul and the way things ended between them.

Mostly, he just wants to tell Paul how much he misses him.

Instead, he opts for the option which is easier, but no less true. He rests his head against a rung in the banister, ignoring the dull ache in his temple where the frames of his glasses dig into his skin.

A shaky inhale breaks the stillness rarely found in their home, and Will speaks softly like he’s sharing a secret.

“I’m happy for you, Paul. Truly.”

In the quiet that follows, Will is sure he can feel the warmth of Paul’s smile despite the miles between them.

 -

Sonny is propped against the kitchen counter when Will gets back from dropping Ari off at baseball practice. Dinner is already on the stove, which is always a welcome addition to his day, especially since he wasn’t expecting Sonny home until later.

Ideally, he would wait to tell Sonny the news during dinner, perhaps over a glass of wine, but Will doesn’t grapple in ideals and blurts it out in lieu of a greeting.

“Paul’s coming to Salem.”

Sonny’s sorting through a stack of receipts, clearly not registering that he is part of a dialogue, and nods distractedly, humming a vague noise of agreement.

“Sonny, what have we said about the kitchen?”

“That it’s a stress-free zone, yes, I know. I just gotta find the sales number for the espresso machine and I’ll be all yours, I promise.”

“Did you even hear what I said?” Will hates doing this. He feels like a nag. But when Sonny gets distracted, it’s not always easy to bring him back in focus.

He stands and waits until Sonny finishes flapping around with the paperwork. Eventually, he seems to find what he’s looking for, grabbing a lone receipt and holding it aloft with a triumphant sigh of relief. “Oh, there it is. Thank God.”

“ _Sonny_.”

“Sorry! Baby, I’m sorry. What is it? Tell me.” Sonny’s back with him now, rounding on Will with his full undivided attention. He’s still in his half apron, which tells Will that it’s been a distracted sort of a day for his husband.

“Paul. Is. Coming. To Salem.” Will makes sure to enunciate, not wanting to have to repeat himself for a third time because, again, he doesn’t _want_  to be a nag.

“He is?” Sonny’s brow furrows, his head tilting to the side in a quizzical manner, stepping closer to place himself in Will’s orbit.

“Yeah. You alright with that?”

“Of _course_. It’s just—he’s getting married in a couple months, didn’t think he’d have time for much else other than wedding planning in between the move. I mean, is it alright with you?”

Sonny knows that Will and Paul have become the 21st Century equivalent of pen-pals in recent years, but he’s equally aware of the regret Will still carries about the way their relationship ended. Truthfully, Will suspects that Sonny carries his own regrets about Paul, buried deep down and out of Will’s reach.

“I want to see him,” Will confesses in a hush and reaches for Sonny’s hand. “It’s been years.”

“ _Four_ years.”

“Almost five. Not that anyone’s counting,” Will corrects him, leaning his weight against the solid bulk of Sonny’s body.

He really _does_ want to see Paul, but he’s nervous and he doesn’t know why. He speaks to Paul all the time. They call and text and email, swapping countless photos and stories of their kids, bitching about their days and venting about their jobs and the trials of life.

Their relationship is as good as its been since before Will got his memories back. Perhaps the distance between them provided something of a buffer against the rockier aspects of their past.

Will has never really forgiven himself for breaking Paul’s heart.

“I miss him, too, Will,” Sonny says quietly, and he must sense the tenseness in Will’s body because he loops an arm around his waist to give him a squeeze. Will closes his eyes, breathing in Sonny’s cologne and the lingering scent of coffee grounds, letting his touch ground him. When he opens them again, he’s already feeling a little more stable. Less nervous.

Sonny’s here, and Sonny loves Paul, too.

They’ll be alright.

Reluctantly parting from Sonny’s warmth, Will trudges over to the stove to check on dinner. Sonny’s gone for a staple within their household; spaghetti with roasted garlic, feta, and black olives. It smells amazing, and Will’s stomach rumbles impatiently, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. They fill each other in about their respective days as they set the table and dish up, and the conversation naturally cycles back around to Paul’s visit when they sit down to eat.

“His plane gets in Thursday night. I would ask if he needs a ride from the airport, but John’s already got it covered.”

Will had called Marlena almost as soon as he’d got off the phone with Paul, and John had been so thrilled about seeing his son that Will could hear him chattering excitedly in the background.

“Is that where they’re staying – with John and Marlena?” Sonny asks, pouring Chablis into glasses before handing one to Will.

“I guess? Paul didn’t say when he called.”

“John is going to be beside himself, they won’t be getting that baby back from him when they try to leave,” Sonny says fondly, no doubt thinking about the ‘World’s Best Grandpa’ pin John has refused to take off since he was given it for his birthday two years ago.

“Natsu’s three. He’s not a baby anymore,” Will points out, distracted somewhat by the glistening bowl of pasta Sonny has set in front of him.

“Ari’s fifteen and she’s still a baby in my eyes,” Sonny retorts, twirling noodles around the tines of his fork, and looking at Will with an expression that conveys ‘duh’ as succinctly as a grown man can without actually voicing it.

Will narrows his eyes and shrugs, speaking around a mouthful of pasta lest he actually have to stop eating. “Ari’s _our_ baby. It’s different.”

“And Natsu is John’s grandson. He’s head-over-heels for that little boy.”

Will concedes the point and clinks his glass against Sonny’s. “I can’t wait to meet him,” he sighs with the wistful air of a parent whose own child is growing up far too fast for his liking.

Once dinner is over, they clear the table, and Sonny leaves the dishes to soak before meeting Will on the couch with the last of the wine.

As is the norm whenever they have a moment to themselves, Sonny get situated and gently eases Will into a sprawl against his chest. Will feels relaxed, pleasantly buzzed from the wine and the proximity of Sonny’s skin. He’s acting mostly on instinct when his lips trace the dip of Sonny’s neck where the scent of his cologne is strongest.

“Thank you for dinner,” Will whispers, deliberately resting more of his weight against Sonny’s crotch, mouthing and nuzzling under his ear. When Sonny finally takes the hint and turns his head to capture Will’s lips; Will shifts and drapes himself over Sonny in an entirely inelegant manner. He can’t really bring himself to care too much, not when Sonny’s mouth is hot and wet, and his beard scratches Will’s skin and makes him moan. It wasn’t Will’s intent for this to go farther than some casual making out, but he is now rapidly rethinking his approach.

Sonny pulls away with a breathless laugh when the force of the kiss knocks Will’s glasses askew. Will huffs and all but tears them from his face, banishing them to the coffee table, eyesight be damned.

He’s all set to dive back in, when Sonny thwarts his advances with a gentle hand to his sternum. “Wait, wait, wait. Ari will be home soon – what time is it?” Sonny asks, offering an apologetic shrug in response to the narrowing of Will’s eyes.

Will takes a cursory glance toward the display on the TV, before turning back to Sonny with an exaggerated squint to emphasize his next point. “I’m flattered you think I can see anything further than your face.”

Sonny twists beneath Will’s body, settling more comfortably between thighs once the fear of their daughter walking in on them has receded. “We’ve got time,” he says, his fingers sliding into an easy hold around Will’s waist, promptly swooping in to pick up where they left off.

- 

Ari’s sitting at the counter poring over a sociology textbook when Will arrives at the coffee shop.

“You workin’ hard?” He asks, gently tugging on her sleeve in greeting as he drops onto the stool beside her.

“ _Trying_ to. I swear, this may as well be in another language. In fact, I’m not sure it isn’t.” She pushes the book away from herself with a groan, managing to knock over a cylinder of coffee stirrers in the process. “Damn it.”

Getting to her feet with another groan, she shimmies around the counter to pick them up, piling them in an unsalvageable little heap near the cash register.

“Hope no one uses these,” she mutters, glancing around the shop with what Will has dubbed her “yikes” expression.

“Put them in the trash, Ari.” Will points toward the trash can and Ari gasps like the suggestion offends her on a personal level.

“The planet is _dying_ , Dad. We’re gonna recycle these bad boys.” Reaching around the percolator, she grabs the recycle bin and sweeps the soiled stirrers into it with a dramatic flourish.

Will narrows his eyes at the display and levels her with an accusatory stare. “How much coffee have you had? ‘Fess up.”

“None, father mine. I _may_ however have downed, like, a whole bunch of matcha frappes.”

There it is. The downside of having a parental-owned coffee shop at your disposal. Free drinks for life. Of course, it doesn’t help that Sonny is physically unable to say ‘no’ to their daughter.

“Ari! I told you, no more caffeine during exam season. You’ll get addicted.”

“Look, I _had_ to.” She grabs the discarded textbook and waves it in Will’s face. “I gotta read four chapters of this shit!”

“Language!” Will yelps in reproach, quickly glancing around to make sure there aren’t any impressionable young ears around.

“Sorry. It’s just so _dull._ ” Ari doesn’t sound sorry, and she glares at the notes spread out on the counter like she’s trying to induce their spontaneous combustion.

“I’m sure it is but that’s life, kid. Sometimes we gotta do dull shit,” Will commiserates, failing to censor himself in time.

“Language.” Ari grins, echoing the chastisement with glee as she pokes at Will’s arm.

“See? You’re a bad influence,” Will teases and takes the textbook from her when she sits back down. He knows next to nothing about sociology, but he’s a good dad, dammit, and good dads help their kids with the tricky shit. “If you’re really having trouble with this, I can test you on it later if you want.”

“Can we make flashcards again?”

Ari had a French exam last year that damn near sent her around the bend. She wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, wasn’t doing much of anything outside of trying to memorise verb tables and intermittent crying. Will felt like crying himself by the end of it, hating to see her so upset and stressed and lethargic.

They’d gotten around the problem by fashioning makeshift flashcards repurposed from Marlena’s ancient Filofax. Will stayed up with her for the whole night, and they ran through drill after drill of conjugation rules and verb stems.

Ari got a B.

Will’s not even convinced that sociology is a real subject, but he has faith in his daughter, and another B is well within her reach.

“Sure, if it helps you remember,” he says, casually sliding the book back into Ari's bag. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“It really does.” She smiles weakly and slumps sideways against his shoulder, defeated for the time being.

Will raises a hand to ruffle her fringe. “It’s a date, then. You, me and sociology.”

 

At around ten that evening, the flashcards are strewn across the coffee table, Will has a headache from trying to teach himself the basics of sociology and with a lot of input from Marlena via Skype, Ari is considerably better versed in the subject than she was that afternoon.

They’re lying in a heap on the floor, taking turns with the spoon to eat ice-cream straight from the tub because neither of them has the cognitive strength to venture back into the kitchen for bowls.

“Baba isn’t home yet,” Ari observes casually, looking around the room like she has only just noticed Sonny’s absence.

“It’s Thursday, precious. He’s working ‘til closing.”

“He missed the rousing debate great grandma Marlena had _with herself_   about the implications of social stratification in developing countries,” Ari says, launching a rudimentary flashcard across the room like a frisbee. A message alert sounds and they both rummage around amongst the carnage for their phones, looking for the source.

“Stand down, soldier. It’s me,” Will tells her, laughing as she plops back down and immediately abandons the search for her own phone.

“Whozzat?” She enquires sluggishly, scrounging about in the carton for the ice-cream dregs.

“Speak of the devil, it’s Grandma,” Will announces in a loud, jovial voice, squinting against the brightness of his screen’s backlight. “Paul’s flight got in okay, and they’re en route to her place with John,” he reads, and shoots off a reply before pushing his fingers behind his glasses to rub at his weary eyes.

“Feels like we haven’t seen Paul in forev _er_.” Stretching out the last vowel sound, Ari rolls onto her side and points the communal spoon at Will. “D’you think he brought back any of those fancy crème brûlée KitKats?”

“I don’t know and for God’s sake, don’t let that be the first thing you ask when you see him.”

Ari shrugs, making no promises, and rolls away again, only narrowly avoiding squashing the dog’s tail. Regardless, Samus is awake now, and Will scratches under her chin when she shuffles over to him.

Lowering himself onto the ottoman, Will strokes his fingers through Samus’s fur, and takes a second to survey the scene; an overtired 15-year-old sprawled across the deck, with the entirety of her schoolbag tipped out and spread around the room, like an explosion in an office supplies store.

‘Good dads help with the tricky shit,’ Will reminds himself, and pretends not to notice the hideous _crack_ of his knees when he stands up.

 

By the time Sonny gets home, they’ve finished the ice-cream, picked up the flashcards and righted the potted plant which got knocked over when Ari threw the textbook out of frustration earlier in the evening.

Sonny finds them in the kitchen nursing giant mugs of tea.

Decaf.

“Hello, my loves,” he sing-songs, giving them each a kiss.

“You get everything closed up?” Will asks, mostly out of routine, as Sonny doesn’t leave for the night without triple checking every lock on the place.

“Yup. All good,” Sonny nods, poking his head around the corner to survey the living room. Satisfied, he turns back and settles against the sink. “How about you? All limbs are intact, and the house is still standing so I’m going to assume the study sesh was a success?”

“I think my brain melted a few hours back,” Ari grumbles, clumsily folding a flashcard into what Will can only assume is supposed to be a swan.

“Seconded,” Will says, patiently holding himself still as Ari balances the lopsided little swan on his shoulder.

“You’ll feel better for it, AG, I promise,” Sonny tells her, using his Worldly Dad Voice that simultaneously makes Will smile and roll his eyes.

Diplomatically, Ari blows a raspberry and makes a face. “Whatever. It’s not as if I’m gonna use any of this stuff in real life. Unless I become, like, a politician.”

“You’d make a terrible politician. You’re far too honest,” Sonny says, and the genuinely stricken expression on his face has Ari squinting at his ridiculousness.

“If you two start talking politics, my head may actually explode,” Will warns them, massaging his temples. The movement causes the swan to topple off his shoulder and onto the floor.

“You killed him,” Ari accuses, leaning worryingly far off the stool to reach for it. She straightens its crumpled beak and gives it back to Will. “Try not to squash him anymore.”

The thing about Ari is that she is very tenacious about learning. Gabi bought her an origami kit for her 13th birthday and Will has procured various paper creations in the years since. Even though she still doesn’t quite have the technique down (she’s surprisingly heavy-handed), Will has a rather impressive collection of her misshapen attempts lining the shelf in his office. He picks up the swan and smiles – this little guy will fit right in. “He’s safe with me.”

Satisfied, Ari nods and chugs the rest of her tea. She stretches exaggeratedly and announces, “I’m beat. I’m going to bed. Love you and goodnight.” She hops off the stool and puts her mug in the sink.  

“Sweet dreams, Ari. Thank you for waiting up for me,” Sonny says, stealing a quick hug as she makes her way back towards the counter where Will is sitting.  

“Night, baby. Good work today.” He holds his hand out for a high five, which Ari enthusiastically returns before wandering out of the room with a gait not unlike a zombie.

Sonny drops into the now empty stool and leans in to give Will a more thorough kiss hello.

“Is she feeling any better about the exam?” He asks, reluctantly pulling away from Will’s lips. He settles instead for hooking his fingers into Will’s belt loops, keeping him close.

“I think so,” Will replies, fiddling with the cuff of Sonny’s sweater. “She definitely knows more than she did this morning, so--that’s something, I guess.” He sighs heavily and shakes his head.

Ari has a lot of doubt about her own abilities, a trait Will fears she may have inherited from him. The only thing is, she has no reason to be doubtful. She’s bright, and beautiful, and a hell of a lot more level-headed than he was at her age.

Will just wishes she’d believe him when he tells her so.

Sonny shifts beside him, digging his fingers into Will’s sides to unfurl the tension in his muscles. “What about you – think you missed your calling as a sociology major?”

“God, no.” Will shudders, knuckling at his eye sockets with a groan.  “I can’t believe my daughter’s only fifteen and she’s already smarter than me.”

“C’mon,” Sonny says with a grin, poking at Will to get him to stand up, “let’s go to bed, you’ve had a traumatic sociology experience.”

Will’s body hears the word ‘bed’ and goes into automatic shutdown mode, his eyes growing heavy as he lets Sonny lead him to their room. “Can we get under the covers and make out ‘til I fall asleep?”

Ideally, the making out would lead to something altogether more rousing than sleep, but Will’s not foolish enough to think that he could stay awake long enough for his dick to get with the programme. It’s an early start tomorrow for both of them and, unfortunately, getting a solid eight hours has to take precedence over orgasms.

He foregoes his usual night time routine, abridging it to the bare essentials. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, and takes a leak. He should probably shave to save time in the morning, but right now all he wants is his bed, Sonny, and smooches in that order.

He’s already under the covers, dozing while Sonny finishes in the bathroom, when he gets another text, this time from Paul. It's a photo of Marlena. She’s holding Natsu close to her chest, caught in a candid moment, and looking utterly besotted.

‘She won’t put him down. Dad’s about to riot,’ Paul writes in the caption, punctuating it with a row of zany emojis. Will smiles and saves the picture to his gallery.

‘Too late,’ he writes back, ‘Natsu belongs to Grandma now.’

This is fine. Just like normal, when they’d text each other all the time. It makes no difference that Paul’s only a half hour down the road.

It _shouldn’t_ make a difference, at least.

Still...

There has been an omnipresent modicum of guilt pulling at the peripheral of his awareness for as long as he can remember.

It first reared its ugly head when he was a child, and he’d cry for his dad when his mom tried to tuck him in for the night. He wasn’t trying to be hurtful, but Sami was so frazzled all the time, going a mile a minute and jumping from one train of thought to another that was confusing to him even then. Lucas wasn’t perfect by any means, but he knew how to calm Will down when he had a nightmare, knew to leave the door open just enough for the light to spill in.

‘He cried for you again last night,’ Sami would say, passing Will to his father, and Lucas’s eyes would light up in a brief allusion of victory.

When he grew up, and realized he was helpless to do anything to spare his siblings from a similar fate of back-and-forth, the guilt only increased, weighing him down at night when Johnny would crawl into bed with him, restless and upset because he missed EJ.

Will wasn’t much of a son, wasn’t much of a brother.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that he wasn’t much of a lover.

He broke Gabi’s heart, because he couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to. Broke Sonny’s even though Will loved him in every way it’s possible to love.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

He loved Paul, too...

Will shakes his head, wishing that his brain would take the hint and know when to shut itself down for the night.

Shifting on the mattress, his breath casts an annoying fog of condensation across the touchscreen. He shoots off another text wishing everyone a goodnight and requesting for Paul to, ‘give Natsu a hug for me.’

Without waiting for a reply, Will checks that the alarm is set, and stows both his phone and his glasses on the bedside table. He's done with thinking for the day. 

Sonny comes out of the bathroom and climbs into bed, automatically opening his arms for Will to curl into.

“You smell good,” Will notes, nuzzling against Sonny’s scruffy cheek. Neither of them has shaved, and the gentle scrape of their facial hair sends a pleasant shiver through Will’s body.

Sonny tastes like mouthwash, and Will keeps the kisses light while he squirms around trying to get comfortable. He eventually settles against the pillow, tugging Sonny over him like a blanket, welcoming the warmth and familiar weight of his body.  He threads his fingers into Sonny’s hair, hanging on as Sonny deepens the kiss, pinning Will into the bed with a slow surge of his hips.

Will scratches at Sonny’s scalp. It’s nice, being with him like this – that is, until Will is forced to break the kiss when a yawn threatens to overtake him.

“You’re falling asleep,” Sonny points out gently, sliding off of Will’s body and settling beside him instead. He doesn’t break contact completely, stroking over the pulse point in Will’s wrist, but his lips aren’t on him anymore, and Will considers this a momentous loss.

“You promised to keep kissing me ‘til I pass out,” Will wheedles sleepily, rolling onto his side to cuddle back into Sonny. He slots his fingers into the waistband of Sonny’s pyjama pants and intends to keep them there for the night. Sonny runs hot in the evening and the warmth of his skin is almost enough to lull Will to sleep.

“I didn’t _promise_ anything.” Sonny sounds amused, brushing a gentle kiss to Will’s temple, and even though Will’s eyes are already closed, he can hear the smile in Sonny’s voice. A smile that's meant only for him, and Will falls asleep with it pressed against his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on [tumblr](https://paul-narita.tumblr.com) （*´▽｀*）


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